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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23845168">I Will Wait For You To Come Down (I'd Really Like To Meet You)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenDaydreams/pseuds/GoldenDaydreams'>GoldenDaydreams</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bless My Darkness (Bless My Light) [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>First Meetings, Friendship, Gavin Reed Is Good At His Job, Gavin Reed is Bad at Feelings, Gen, Major Character Injury, Mute RK900, Near Death Experiences, Pre-Relationship Reed900, angelAU</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:13:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,548</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23845168</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenDaydreams/pseuds/GoldenDaydreams</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>An angel saves Gavin's life on a 'noise complaint' call that goes horrifically wrong.<br/>The angel shows up from time to time and interferes with Gavin's life.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gavin Reed/Original Male Character(s), Hank Anderson &amp; Gavin Reed, Upgraded Connor | RK900 &amp; Gavin Reed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bless My Darkness (Bless My Light) [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1718170</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>80</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I Will Wait For You To Come Down (I'd Really Like To Meet You)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>End notes have a couple of spoiler/ warning tags. </p><p>Title from the song 'Nice To Meet You'- Our Lady Peace</p><p>Chronologically, events of this story actually happen BEFORE the first part of the series.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When asked later what happened, Gavin could only reply with a hodge-podge of memories. It started out with him going a little further out of his way to go to a coffee shop that he liked with fresh baked goods—a coffee and a snack—that was why he was the closest officer when the call came in for a noise disturbance, but he remembered the house being quiet when he arrived. </p><p>From there, things got blurry. A scream, and he burst through the door, so thankful that it wasn’t locked. A little girl screaming for help. Glass on the kitchen floor. Blood on the walls. A gun pointed at the girl, and he didn’t even have time to unholster his weapon. </p><p>He fell to his knees as he twisted around to shield her. </p><p>From there, things got… bright. Warmth spilled through his body—he’d always thought death would be cold. There was no pain, no fear. He felt so good he could cry from the relief of it all. Floating along the edge of consciousness he remembered feeling a hand on his face, feeling more than he ever had, loved, protected, <em>safe</em>.</p><p>And when he opened his eyes, it wasn’t a doctor keeping him alive, but an angel. Wings spread blocking the view of the room, soft grey glinting like silver had been woven into the feathers. His face was hardened with focus, but softened with a smile when he realized Gavin was awake. </p><p>Gavin wanted to ask about the little girl, but it made his jaw hurt. The angel opened his mouth but no words followed. He raise a finger to his lips in the universal signal for ‘quiet.’  </p><p>From there, Gavin floated along the good feelings drifting in a state of unconsciousness.</p><p>The angel was gone when the paramedics arrived. </p><p>Hank filled him in on the rest while he was in the hospital, despite being perfectly fine by that point. Little girl (Annie Foster) found asleep on the couch, memory of the day entirely gone. Mother(Karen Foster) found dead in the living room—gunshot wound to the head, bullet matching the husband’s gun. Husband (Grant Foster) dead.</p><p>“Dead from what?” Gavin asked. </p><p>Hank had planted his hands on his hips and glared at the floor a moment before answer. “The angel smited him. Smote him? Whatever, the angel fried the guy.” </p><p>“Fuck.” Gavin sat up slowly. He didn’t have any aches or pains, but kept expecting them. “Do you know when they’re going to let me out of here?” </p><p>“You were fucking shot, Gav. Take a minute.”</p><p>They let him out that night, Tina was the one to drive him home, he insisted he was fine, that he didn’t want the company. Went inside and straight to the bathroom. There was only one way he could have survived. </p><p>Sure enough, the soft gold caught the light, sparkling a little. The mark of a hand, angel-touched, a miracle. They were so rare he’d only seen a few pictures passed around on social media sites. Angels didn’t often interfere in human lives. This one had decided he was worthy enough to save. </p><p>Gavin sat down on the cold, dirty tile of his bathroom floor wondering what about him made him worth saving. Karen Foster was dead, and Annie was left without a mother, why hadn’t the angel saved Karen instead?</p><p>Why?</p><p>—</p><p>People stared at him, at the flickers of gold on his face. It wasn’t so bold that it could always be seen, but it stood out like a neon sign when the sun hit it. He let his stubble grow out a bit, trying to hide it, but even the hairs there grew in like they were coated in gold, and it looked stupid as fuck, so he shaved the beard. </p><p>Over the past few years, he’d gotten used to the stares, the whispers. It wasn’t like he had much of a choice. This was his life now, one of the angel-touched. </p><p>He was on his usual run through the woods when he saw the angel again. The imposing figure stood in the middle of the path. Gavin damn near tripped over his own two feet in surprise. That primal fight or flight kicked in. </p><p>Option three: freeze. </p><p>Panting, he slowly reached up and removed his wireless headphones. The birds were chirping, a gentle breeze rustled the leaves and made the overgrown bunches of grass sway. </p><p>The angel pointed to the right. A second later Gavin couldn’t see, at least not as he usually would. Instead, he saw a fallen oak tree over the path. A bridge that was blocked off with caution tape and falling apart. A rock formed like a ramp growing spots of moss. A clearing with a decrepit trailer. A shadow in the window. </p><p>The images played again, then again, then faster until he was holding his hands over his eyes, his head feeling like it would explode, his gut twisting, and then it all stopped. </p><p>He spat on the ground, trying to rid his mouth of the metallic taste, surprised to see there wasn’t any blood. He looked up and the angel was gone. </p><p>What the fuck? </p><p>Squinting upward, he saw nothing but clear blue skies, no angel in sight. </p><p>The images must have been from the angel, and he’d pointed. Gavin tucked his earpods into his tiny pocket on his armband that held his phone, and walked over to the fork in the road where the trail branched off in three directions. The one the angel had pointed at had a sign staked right in the middle of the gravel path.</p><p>[BRIDGE OUT FOR REPAIRS. NO ACCESS]</p><p>Fuck it. The angel hadn’t come down and pointed out the way for nothing. All those images, they must have meant something, right? </p><p>He ran down the path and paused at the fallen oak, just like the picture in his mind. Over it, he continued, and came across the bridge with caution tape, the wooden beams looked all rotted through, and he wasn’t sure it would support his weight, instead he walked along the edge of the stream until he found a section he could jump over. </p><p>Back on the trail, he came across the rock with the moss to his left, and up ahead he could see the clearing. His watch calculated the uptick in his heart rate. Everything the angel had shown him, guided his way to this place. It had to be important. </p><p>There weren’t any cars around, but there was a folding chair out front, it looked weather beaten even at a distance. Gavin walked along the tree line, keeping as low as possible, wishing he hadn’t worn a bright blue shirt when he went running. Something was in that trailer. Someone. </p><p>The last image was a shadowy figure by the window. A warning?</p><p>He grabbed a couple of small rocks, and walked through the field, coming at the end of the trailer with the hitch and no window. He could hear muted talking inside, soft creaks as someone walked, someone was crying. </p><p>Something was happening here, he wasn’t sure what, but pulled out his phone. He’d recently been promoted to detective, made the move into homicide. He’d known Hank since he was a rookie, while they weren’t exactly friends—he knew he could count on the Lieutenant.  </p><p>He texted him the location off the trail, the information about the suspicious trailer, the sounds he heard inside. Told Hank he was going to check it out, and would get back to him—and if he didn’t, send backup. With his phone shoved back in the armband, he shook the rocks in his other hand, picked out a few, and took a couple side steps, threw them at the window and ducked back into cover. </p><p>It took a couple more times before someone inside opened the trailer door. Gavin got a partial look at the man before tucking back into the cover the trailer provided. </p><p>That was a shotgun. </p><p>Fuck. </p><p>He rounded the front of the trailer as he heard the footsteps walk closer. As quietly as possible, he dropped and rolled under the trailer, shimming his way to the other side as he watched the man’s feet walking the perimeter. He came out the other side, prayed there was no one with another gun inside, and as quietly as possible opened the door. </p><p>There were women inside, various ages, various stages of undress, some had bruises. They all stared at him with the same surprise he surely looked at them with—for a moment anyway, before his surprise shifted into white-hot rage. He stepped in and let the door close as he held a finger up to his lips. The women nodded. </p><p>He looked along the kitchenette, no knives, no frying pans, no nothing that could be used as a weapon. It was entirely covered in take out meals. He heard the man on the front stair, and tucked his body into the small bathroom consisting of a toilet, which reeked, and a sink that surely didn’t work. </p><p>The door swung shut with a loud ‘clang.’ A soft murmur of conversation among the women. Gavin made eye contact with the woman sitting on the bench style bed at the back, three other women sitting with her, but she held her hand up, motioning for him to stay. </p><p>Gavin listened to the man walking. To something being set down on the counter. The gun. He looked at the way the women were handcuffed, and tied together, and to the sturdy links drilled into the wall. They wouldn’t be going for the weapon. </p><p>He heard something creak and the woman looked at him, dark brown eyes filled with hope, shimmering with tears. She made a gun with her hand, then looked to the counter. </p><p>He nodded. Gun on the counter, he figured that one out already.  </p><p>He pointed to the front, where the other man was, then to his eyes. </p><p>She looked confused. </p><p>He needed to know which way the man was looking. He hoped this woman was good at charades. He turned his head to the right pointed to his eyes and pointed to the wall then looked ahead and pointed again to his eyes then to the wall in front of him. </p><p>She seemed to understand then what he was asking. Her eyes shifted just slightly, watching watching. Then pointed to the right. </p><p>If the man was still watching out that window, he’d see Gavin in his peripheral vision, and being that the suspect was at the proper end of the gun, Gavin or one of the women would likely end up shot. </p><p>His phone vibrated in the armband, and he held his hand over it praying the noise wouldn’t be heard. Two of the girls at the back started talking a little louder, and were barked at to ‘shut up’ for their trouble. </p><p>The brown eyed girl suddenly sat straighter and pointed as much as she could at the front. That was his cue. He rushed out, grabbed the gun, got it turned around and braced against his shoulder before the man could turn. </p><p>“No sudden moves,” Gavin said, praying that the man would comply. A gun going off in this small of a space wouldn’t be good. A cluster of young women were behind him, so close, too close for comfort. “Hands above your head.” The man’s lip curled, and it looked more like he was going to go for another weapon. “I said hands above your head, motherfucker!” He shouted, finger on the trigger, barrel of the gun pointed at center mass. “Now!” He kept barking out the orders even as they were obeyed, keeping the man focussed on him, and intimidated. </p><p>“Outside,” Gavin shouted. “Move, now!” </p><p>He followed, but not so close that the man might swing around and get a hand on the gun. The door almost swung close after the man stepped out, but Gavin gave it a swift kick and walked out even as it swung back and hit his arm, he kept the gun steady.</p><p>“Knees! On your knees!” he shouted. “Keep your fucking hands on your head, get on your knees!”</p><p>“Listen man, I’ll cut you in—twenty percent on those girls, you’ll be swimming in the cash-”</p><p>Gavin had to take his finger off the trigger to stop from killing the man. “Did I fucking stutter, get on your fucking knees!” </p><p>The man kept his hands on the back of his head, and slowly lowered to his knees to the ground. </p><p>“When is your buyer coming?” Gavin had to know. Fuck-let it not be right this fucking minute when he has no back up, no vest, a trailer full of young women still fucking tied to one another, and a shotgun, with a fucking three round capacity!</p><p>“Two hours.”</p><p>His relief was short-lived. Likely not enough time to get the women out safely and set up a sting. “Who is your buyer?”</p><p>“Why the fuck you so interested, huh?” he huffed out a breath. “You a cop?”</p><p>“Yeah, I fucking am.” His phone started to buzz again against his arm, but he couldn’t risk taking his hand off the gun to answer it. </p><p>“Fucking pig!” </p><p>“Never heard that before,” Gavin muttered, ignoring the curses the man spat at him. </p><p>He heard movement on the other side of the trailer a second before they were surrounded by SWAT, guns pointed at both of them, someone yelling for him to put down the gun. </p><p>Gavin moved slowly, t-shirt clinging to the sweat on his body as he complied, setting the shotgun down and straightened out keeping his hands up. “I’m Detective Gavin Reed, that man has several women inside the trailer, they’re cuffed and tied inside.” </p><p>The guy on his knees was quickly handcuffed, but there were still guns pointed at Gavin, even as he can hear the trailer being breached.</p><p>“Any way of proving your identity?” The Captain asked.</p><p>“Left my wallet in the car, no pockets in these shorts,” Gavin replied. “Video call Lieutenant Anderson, I’m sure he’s the one who called you guys in. He knows me.” </p><p>“Burnhart, cuff him until we get an ID.” Gavin caught the sight of ‘ALLEN’ stitched into the man’s gear. Burnhart didn’t have to tighten the cuffs as tight as he did, but Gavin kept his mouth shut. He also kept still as he was patted down for any weapons. </p><p>Allen wasn’t busy trying to get Gavin’s identity sorted, instead he checked the trailer, holstered his gun, and helped the first of the young women out. It’s a slow process, one woman after another, a few of them are crying but it’s clearly in relief. </p><p>The brown eyed girl stepped out into the sunlight and looked around, she took a few steps toward Gavin before a pause. “Why is he handcuffed?” she asked Captain Allen. “He saved us!” </p><p>“I just need to confirm his identity-”</p><p>“If it weren’t for him, we’d all still be trapped in there. I’ve been in there for days!” she cried. “How dare you! How <em>dare</em> you!”</p><p>“It’s for your safety as well as ours-”</p><p>She turned from him, stumbled a bit but waved off one of the officers who went to help her. Her fire was unexpected in the best way. Gavin found himself smiling. That was one powerful woman, and he respected the hell out of that strength. She walked over to Gavin, Burnhart standing at his side, waiting to interfere. She glared at the SWAT officer, but her eyes softened when she looked at Gavin. </p><p>“Thank you, some of those girls have been there longer than me. I-I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t come along, but I know it wouldn’t have been good.” </p><p>Gavin had never been entirely comfortable with praise. It left him feeling awkward, and he wanted to escape from it, brush it off, but she was so earnest, tear tracks in her make-up, her dark brown hair falling in a limp mess, her shirt a little torn, a cut on her lip—she’d survived days in that trailer, he could handle feeling a little out-of-sorts. </p><p>He just nodded. “I’m just happy I could help.” </p><p>“What’s your name.” </p><p>“Gavin-”</p><p>“Why the hell is my detective in cuffs?” Hank bellowed, and Gavin had never been so happy to see the man. </p><p>“Lieutenant,” Allen said formally. “He has no identification on him, we needed to be sure-”</p><p>“He’s Detective Gavin Reed, now uncuff him,” Hank said storming into the fray, gun in a shoulder holster, bright blue shirt with pineapples, no bulletproof vest, purely pissed off. “And you,” he turned on Gavin, “the fuck was that text message? And you never responded when I texted you back, I thought you were dead, you asshole!”</p><p>“It was time sensitive, Anderson,” he drawled, rubbing his wrists when they’re released, aching, red lines. Burnhart left them. </p><p>“It was dumb, you could have been killed, and,” Hank ran his hand through his hair. “You’ll probably be fucking commended for it.” </p><p>“As he should,” the woman said. </p><p>Hank seemed to deflate a little. “EMS is coming, they’re trying to make it through the woods with stretchers.” </p><p>Like that was a cue, a few of the paramedics broke through the treeline, one wheeling the stretcher to the end of the pathway, another few had med-bags over their shoulders, but waited until Captain Allen gave them the all clear before they moved in. </p><p>“Thank you, Gavin,” she said before the paramedic took her to the side to start checking her over. </p><p>“Come on, we’ve got to get your statement down, hotshot,” Hank said, starting to walk off, Gavin followed. “How did you even end up here? The pathways are a fucking mess.” </p><p>“I was sent by an angel.”</p><p>“Har-har, I need your official state-”</p><p>“The one that saved me,” Gavin said, causing Hank to falter in his step. “The angel who saved me pointed out the way and started sending me these images of landmarks I would hit along the way until I came to the trailer, even showed me the figure inside.”</p><p>Hank paled and shook his head. “I don’t understand those feathery bastards.”</p><p>Gavin had spent the past several months since trying to figure out why he’d been saved the day he’d been shot, why the angel had not only chosen to interfere, but to save his life rather than that of Karen Foster. He still didn’t have an answer. </p><p>“I would never have come across that place if he hadn’t pointed me in the right direction,” Gavin said. “I don’t know why he did, but it saved those women.” Now that the adrenaline was wearing down he he felt a bone-weary exhaustion, but also pride, and an edge of some floaty feeling that grazed along his consciousness. “Lieutenant?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“I think I need to sit down.” </p><p>“Fuck,” a hand was tight around his arm, kept him from tripping over his own two feet and helped him sit down safely. “Head between your knees, deep breaths.” Hank’s hand was grounding as it rubbed back and forth over his shoulders. </p><p>It was like being saved all over again, that floaty feeling, dazed and his eyes too heavy to even open. Floating, floating; overwhelmed with that sense of pride, of joy, of everything good—he came back to reality looking up at the sky with Hank in his peripheral vision, waving a paramedic over. </p><p>“It’s,” he cleared his throat, realized his face was wet—tears, he’d been crying. He wiped his face as the feelings mellowed but still grazed gently against his consciousness. “It’s okay, I’m fine.”</p><p>“You passed out, did he hit your head or something?” Hank asked. </p><p>“No, I’m fine,” Gavin insisted. “I think… I think it was the angel.” </p><p>Hank sighed. “What the fuck does that mean.”</p><p>Gavin was slow to sit up, and Hank fussed over him, a guiding hand on his back. He didn’t want to answer, didn’t want to put his suspicion into words—that the angel had sent those feelings, that pride, and joy-a thank you perhaps? </p><p>“Gavin,” Hank snapped his fingers in front of Gavin’s face. “What does that mean?” </p><p>The feelings were not for sharing. They were his. Theirs. “Can we just get the statement over with?” Gavin deflected. “I want to get showered, and sleep.” </p><p>Hank relented easier than Gavin expected him to. </p><p>On the walk to Hank’s car (he’d have to come back for his later) a shadow passed overhead, too large to be a bird, too fast to be a cloud blocking the sun. By the time Gavin looked up, there was nothing to see, but he had no doubt it had been his angel. </p><p>—</p><p>It was another three months before he saw the angel again. The night had been going fine. He’d dressed a little sharper than usual since he was going out on a date with Jake, a man he’d matched up with on a dating app and had spent the last week texting. </p><p>They met at a cafe, ended up both agreeing to walking a few blocks to get dinner; stayed through the dinner rush, and well into happy-hour. The food had been delicious, the conversation had flowed and the pauses had been comfortable rather than awkward. Jake had that sharp jawline that Gavin couldn’t help but stare at, and had a blonde hair, dark eyed combo he needed in order to keep that dark haired, grey eyed combo out of his head. </p><p>They took a taxi back to Gavin’s for coffee, but ‘coffee’ led them to flirting, and making out on the couch. Jake pushed a little for more, a hand slipping under his shirt, and Gavin gently shut it down. “Save something for the second date.” </p><p>Jake smiled at that. “I know your work schedule is a little crazy, call me when you’re free?”</p><p>“Yeah, of course,” Gavin replied. </p><p>Jake left after a few more kisses. Gavin felt good about the entire date. He took his cold coffee out onto his balcony and proceeded to drop the mug. The angel’s hand shot out and caught it faster than Gavin could comprehend. The angel set the mug down on the little table, and resumed sitting on the railing, his large wings spilling over like a glorious waterfall. </p><p>Gavin slowly stepped out. “So we meet again.” </p><p>The angel’s eyes followed him. </p><p>“What are you doing here?” </p><p>The angel raised a hand and pointed at Gavin. </p><p>“Me? You’re here to see me.” </p><p>The angel nodded. </p><p>“Makes sense, I guess, since you’re on my balcony.” Gavin lowered himself onto one of the metal chairs that made up his little bistro set, but kept his eyes on the angel. “Haven’t seen you in a while.” The angel didn’t move, didn’t make a sound. “I’m-I’m glad that you sent me on that little trip last time. Those women all made it out, they recovered well. Hell, Captain Allen’s team even managed to have enough time to set up a sting for the buyers.” </p><p>Gavin felt it then, the hand print on his face warming, pride and happiness mixing, his body limp with the over-saturated emotions. “S-stop,” he slurred, afraid he’d end up passed out on the floor. The emotions pulled back, and then were gone. “You can’t keep doing that, it’s too much.” </p><p>The angel had the decency to look contrite. </p><p>Gavin reached out and held the mug in his hands, just for something to keep him grounded. He took a sip, it should be normal, but there was still a celestial creature sitting on the railing of his balcony. </p><p>“Why me?” he asked. “I never got the chance to ask you before, but why did you save me?” </p><p>The angel stared, and Gavin didn’t think he was going to get any kind of answer, but the angel’s feet touched down as he gracefully lowered from the railing, his wings flattening against his back. He stepped over to Gavin, and Gavin stared up at him. The angel crouched down, and rested his hand over Gavin’s heart. </p><p>“What? Why did you save me?” Gavin demanded, a little harsher, a little braver. His hand laid over the angels, over his heart. “This isn’t an answer.” </p><p>The angel’s eyes were down where their hands were joined. He opened his mouth, and shut it just as quick. Instead, Gavin got the images of the trailer, faces that he knew but that weren’t familiar. “What? I don’t understand!”</p><p>The angel sighed, the flow of images stopped, his hand pulled away, and Gavin was somehow left colder than before. </p><p>Gavin reached out and grabbed the angel’s wrist and only after feeling the warmth did he realize that he just grabbed a fucking angel. A chorus of ‘don’t smite me’ repeated in his head. “Stay a while?” he asked trying to keep the panic out of his voice—it didn’t work. </p><p>Gavin’s fingers loosened, and eventually he pulled away from the angel. Other than the wind slight ruffling his wings, the angel stayed so still he might as well have been carved from marble. Gavin’s heart still beat too fast, and his mouth was dry, but he tried to think of something to say. “You got a name?” </p><p>The angel just frowned. </p><p>“No? Or I guess it’s hard to Pictionary a name? Hey, can you write?” </p><p>The angel nodded. </p><p>Gavin stood, and went to the door, pausing. “Do you want to come in?” </p><p>The angel remained still, so Gavin left the door open as he went inside and found a notepad in the kitchen drawer along with a pen. The angel was in his living room when he stepped out. The sight was nearly enough for his brain to just melt out his ears. It didn’t make sense for the angel to be in his space, too beautiful, to otherworldly. </p><p>“Uh, here,” he held out the pen and notepad. “Think you can tell me your name now?” </p><p>The angel spent an unreasonable amount of time dragging the pen over the paper, and when he turned it around Gavin stared. It was circular, perfectly circular, tiny intricate little marks, it was beautiful—but utter nonsense. “What is this?”</p><p>The angel pointed to himself. </p><p>“You, your name?” </p><p>The angel nodded. </p><p>“You know I can’t read this, right?” </p><p>The angel smiled, and his eyes seemed alight with mischief.</p><p>“You’re such a little shit.” </p><p>Panic came in a wave, he couldn’t tease an angel like that—but then the fear evaporated as quickly as it came, a warmth brushed along the back of his consciousness, he knew it was the angel, in the same way he knew the angel was trying to hold it back. </p><p>Suddenly the mischief is gone, and the Angel’s head turned toward the balcony. Gavin’s panic hit again full force without the warmth to keep it at bay. “What is it?” he asked. </p><p>The angel pointed to himself, then to the doors.</p><p>“You’re leaving?”</p><p>The angel nodded, turning around, and nearly knocking Gavin’s lamp over with his wings. Gavin steadied the lamp, heard a crack like thunder, and when he looked over, the angel was gone. </p><p>He’d be back. </p><p>He always came back.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Parts of the story has/refers to: domestic abuse, human trafficking, also Gavin gets shot and nearly dies/fingerguns/ he gets better.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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